


Sound Bite

by EtoileGarden



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mild Angst, Phone Calls, Uni life, this is basically one long ramble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-05-05 17:42:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14623809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EtoileGarden/pseuds/EtoileGarden
Summary: “Just missed my voice again?” Ronan jibes, voice muffled for a moment as he settles back down in his pillows, “needed your dose of sarcasm?”“Yeah,” Adam says, “also I forgot to mention earlier that Gansey called to complain about you.”“If he’s complaining about me not picking up the phone,” Ronan snorts, “I told him it was because I was elbow deep in cow shit.”





	Sound Bite

**Author's Note:**

> This ought to be titled 'Arden wrote this in one sitting while she was meant to be asleep and she needs to just stop'.

It’s about four in the morning. Well. It is twelve past four in the morning, but saying about four makes it feel less early somehow. It’s about four in the morning, barely even a week since he had arrived and settled into his small shared dorm. It’s about four in the morning in his chilly dorm, chillier where he’s perched on his ass outside the dorm door so as not to disturb his roommate, and he’s calling Ronan. 

 

Ronan answers in a very rough, grumpy voice, which is no indication to whether or not Adam has just woken him up, because his just woke up voice is very similar to his phone voice. Both of them scream, ‘I don’t want this’. 

 

“Parrish,” he grumbles in greeting, and Adam sighs. Relief.  “It’s fucking four,” Ronan continues. 

 

“I know,” Adam says, “were you sleeping?” 

 

“Obvi-fucking-ously.” 

 

“I dunno,” Adam mumbles, keeps his voice low, his hand cupped around his phone to keep the sound close to him, “you could’ve been binging some of your crappy tv shows, or just in from dreaming, or burning shit with Opal in the backyard.” 

 

“I wasn’t though,” Ronan grumbles, yawns, “I was sleeping. Comfortably. In my bed.” 

 

“You woke up quick,” Adam observes, “the phone barely rang twice.” 

 

“I told you I set your ringtone to that obnoxiously loud classical piece you like. Woke up to fucking gongs and shit.” 

 

“Still,” Adam says, “it’s impressive.” 

 

“What the fuck do you want, Parrish?” 

 

“Nothing,” Adam says. 

 

“Cabeswater hasn’t started growing out of your ears? You don’t need me to send our fucking personal hitman to murder your roommate because he snores?” 

 

“No,” Adam laughs. He can all but hear Ronan’s glare over the phone. 

 

“What the fuck is wrong?” Ronan says, “I know you keep shitting terrible hours when you’re studying, but four is pushing it.” 

 

“I just missed you,” Adam says, quickly, “I just wanted to...talk.” 

 

“And it couldn’t have waited a few more hours?” 

 

“No,” Adam says, quite truthfully. “I missed your voice.” 

 

“It’s been a week,” Ronan points out, and his tone is sarcastic, but edging into something softer. 

 

“Yeah,” Adam agrees, “a week.” 

 

“You’re a sop,” Ronan says, “a week and you’re already missing my voice. What kinda gay shit?” 

 

“Really gay shit,” Adam agrees, presses his phone harder against his ear, “do you miss me?” 

 

Ronan snorts over the phone. Adam knows better than to feel hurt. 

 

“Do you miss my voice?” Adam asks. 

 

“Miss it less when it’s asking me dumbshit,” Ronan replies, “of course I fucking miss you, asshole.” 

 

“Your asshole,” Adam says, voice very low. He doesn’t want to be overheard. He does want to say this shit to Ronan though. Something about the early morning, something about the stress of new everything, something about sleeping badly. It makes him want to  _ tell _ Ronan obvious things. Like how he missed him. 

 

“Yeah,” Ronan says, “have you slept yet?” 

 

“Yeah,” Adam says, tips his head back against the wood door, “woke up too early.” 

 

“Bad dreams?” Ronan asks. 

 

“Shoddy sleep schedule,” Adam says, which isn’t an outright lie so much as an avoidance. 

 

“Hm.” Ronan says. It sounds like he’s rolling over in the sheets. 

 

“I miss sleeping with you,” Adam says then, which is very true. 

 

It wasn’t as if they had slept together enough that it was his norm, but they certainly slept together enough that not getting to for a week straight meant he was lonely in bed.

 

“Sleeping with me?” Ronan asks, “Or  _ sleeping _ with me?” 

 

“Fuck off,” Adam snorts. 

 

“‘Cos we could always test out what phone sex is like,” Ronan offers, voice teasing. 

 

“I’m not jerking off on the phone with you,” Adam says, tries to hide his amusement, “I’m in the fucking hallway.” 

 

“Why?” Ronan asks. 

 

“Don’t wanna wake my roommate.” 

 

“The same roommate who held a party the night before first classes?” 

 

“I’m hoping to train him by leading in example.” 

 

“Futile. 

 

“Ok,” Adam says, “ok. I - I’m going to try and get more sleep. You should too.” 

 

“Whatever.” 

 

“Thanks,” Adam mumbles. 

 

Ronan knows what he means. “Whatever,” he says again.

  
  


-

 

It’s not that they don’t talk in normal hours. They do. Adam’s got into the habit of texting Ronan every morning, just a complaint about the cold, or his roommate, or a comment on a book he was reading, or, really, just a reminder that he’s thinking about Ronan. Ronan will always reply. A photo of a cow, or a cloud, or a clump of dirt. Occasionally his middle finger. Sometimes a single ‘x’, more rarely, a reply to his message with words. They would text throughout the day as well. Not much. Usually just a couple of texts each, unless one of them wanted to bitch about something. Ronan even sometimes texted first. He mostly communicated with photos of what he was up to, or emojis which read like hieroglyphs, and Adam mostly replied in kind. It was kinda fun. 

 

In the second week, Ronan even sends a fucking postcard. 

 

They don’t call enough, though. That requires too much co-ordination to have something regular, what with Ronan’s weirdly shifting farm schedule, and Adam attempting to make room for studying, and socialising, and working, and extra-curricular. They call once a week though, usually. Mostly around about noon, the both of them taking a moment for lunch and spouting sarcastic comments at each other. 

 

It’s mostly enough. Mostly. 

  
  


-

  
  


This time it’s three in the morning. Adam isn’t sure how much past three it is, just that it’s three-ish. He’s purposely not looking at the time.

 

Ronan’s voice is very gruff when he answers, like he’s speaking mid-snore. 

 

“Fucker?” 

 

“Yeah,” Adam, says, a little amused, “what were you dreaming about?” 

 

“That I was sleeping all night uninterrupted,” Ronan replies dryly, clears his throat coughs. This is followed by what sounds like Ronan taking a gulp of water.

 

“I won’t keep you from it too long, then,” Adam says through a smile. 

 

“Just missed my voice again?” Ronan jibes, voice muffled for a moment as he settles back down in his pillows, “needed your dose of sarcasm?” 

 

“Yeah,” Adam says, “also I forgot to mention earlier that Gansey called to complain about you.” 

 

“If he’s complaining about me not picking up the phone,” Ronan snorts, “I told him it was because I was elbow deep in cow shit.” 

 

Adam laughs quietly. He’s in his room this time, doesn’t want to risk a cold by sitting in the hallway. He has a paper due in a couple of days, he needs his health. 

 

“He didn’t call to complain about that,” he says, “although he did mention that when you called him back you told him that if he, and I’m quoting him quoting you, ‘ _ sucked my dick, I’d answer your calls as frequently as Parrish’s’ _ .” 

 

There’s a moment of silence, and then a noise which sounds remarkably like Ronan shrugging. 

 

“It’s true,” Ronan says. .

 

“It isn’t true,” Adam says. 

 

“Ok,” Ronan snorts, “even if he sucked my dick I probably wouldn’t answer his phone calls as much because he wouldn’t be my boyfriend. Anyway, this is on him, he was the one who brought up that I always answer  _ your  _ calls.” 

 

“Ok,” Adam says, as sarcastic as he can manage while whispering. 

 

“What was he calling to complain about then?” Ronan asks. 

 

“Oh,” Adam says, snorts a little, glances across the room to make sure Michael isn’t waking up from the noise, “apparently Maura told Blue that you were growing a moustache and Blue told Gansey and Gansey objects.” 

 

“Oh fuck that,” Ronan laughs, loud and joyful, cacophonous at this time in the morning. “I just didn’t fucking shave that day ‘cos I had a cow calving. What’d you tell him?” 

 

“I told him you were growing it because I wanted to do ‘handlebar rides’.” 

 

Ronan’s laughter gets louder. Adam pulls the blankets over his head to try and muffle it a little. 

 

“You’re a little shit,” Ronan says eventually, “want me to grow a mo’, then?” 

 

“Fuck no,” Adam says, “you’d look like a murderer.” 

 

“Don’t I already?” 

 

“More like a murderer.” 

 

“Whatever.” 

 

“I kinda do like your unshaven vaguely scruffy look though, even though it also gives off slight murdery vibes.” Adam says, shuffles round so he can pin the phone between the bed and his head and tuck his hands under his armpits in an attempt to warm then. 

 

“Mm, sexy.” Ronan says. 

 

“Tell me about it.” 

 

“So, that phone sex?” 

 

“Ronan, no.” 

 

“Well, I tried.” 

 

“You should go back to sleep, babe,” Adam says, yawns, “thanks for picking up.” 

 

“You know I only pick up so you’ll suck my dick,” Ronan responds, yawns as well. 

 

“Just for that comment, I’m not going to suck your dick next time I see you,” Adam retorts, not very seriously. 

 

“Go to sleep, nerd.” 

 

“You too, shit head.” 

  
  


-

  
  


It’s six in the morning the next time he calls just because he wants to hear Ronan’s voice, so there’s a good (ish) chance that Ronan will even already be awake, and a good (bad) chance that Ronan will be awake and somewhere elbow deep in cow shit. 

 

“My voice isn’t good listening material currently,” Ronan answers the phone, voice a lot raspier than usual, almost wispy. 

 

“Oh,” Adam says, stomach dropping stupidly, “you’re sick?” 

 

“That or a fucking toad crawled into my throat last night and won’t come the fuck out.” 

 

“Oh dear,” Adam says. 

 

“Yeah,” Ronan grunts, “I’ve been up since fucking five ‘cos I can’t fucking breathe. The amount of lemon and honey I’ve had in the last hour alone, Parrish-” 

 

“Don’t forget garlic,” Adam manages. 

 

“Parrish,” Ronan says, “you’re not crying, are you?” 

 

“No,” Adam says. 

 

“Because,” Ronan says, “you sure sound like you’re fucking crying.” 

 

“I’m not,” Adam protests, unsuccessfully apparently according to Ronan’s snide throat clearing. 

 

“I’m not dying,” Ronan says, “I’m just a little sick.” 

 

“I know,” Adam says. 

 

Ronan clears his throat, long and loud, a little away from the phone, and when he speaks again, his voice is a little clearer. 

 

“What’s up?” he asks. 

 

“I thought,” Adam mumbles, “that the deal was we pretend nothing is up when I call at God awful times in the morning.” 

 

“No,” Ronan says sharply, or as sharply as he can while his voice is all gravel and snot, “That only happens when you sound at least semi ok. I’m not ignoring this.” 

 

“Honestly, Ronan-” Adam begins, clears his own throat, but can’t unblock the lump from it. 

 

“No,” Ronan says again, “are you in fucking pain? Is someone being shitty to you?” 

 

“I miss you,” Adam says, like an idiot, “it’s fucking hard.” 

 

Ronan’s silent for a moment, save for his laboured and raspy breathing, and then, “I miss you too.” 

 

“It’s just-” Adam begins, thanks God that Michael is off in some one night stand’s room this morning so he can raise his voice as needed, “-just - I want this so much. Being here. Fucking - uni. These classes. This shitty place. I  _ want _ it. I’ve always wanted it, and I knew it was going to be hard work, and a lot of hard work, it’s just -  _ Ronan _ -” 

 

“Yeah?” Ronan says. 

 

“Sometimes,” Adam mumbles, “I’m just - mostly I can stay on top of all this work, it’s fine, it’s - it’s hard work but I’m used to that and it’s fine - it’s just that I never fucking imagined being here - fucking chasing my dreams - but wanting something else.” 

 

“Are you talking about me?” Ronan asks, a vague attempt at humour, “Or like, spag bol?” 

 

Adam doesn’t grace this with an answer, just barrels on, knows that he’ll probably feel better and worse if he manages to get it all out, doesn’t even know what it all is he wants to get out. 

 

“I don’t think I realised how much I was going to miss you,” Adam admits, “how much I… how much I relied on seeing you to keep my mood up. I’m...lonely.” 

 

“Babe,” Ronan says, and Adam can only imagine how upset he must sound for Ronan to be breaking out the ‘babe’s over the fucking phone. “Babe, what about your shitty nerd friends there? I thought you were having a good time with them?” 

 

That was completely beside the point. 

 

“I am,” Adam wails, clears his throat, tries to tone down any other wails in advance, “but none of them.... Touch me. None of them  _ touch _ me or  _ know _ me or -” 

 

“They better not be touching you,” Ronan says. 

 

“I’m used to being touched now,” Adam says, a little too mournful, “I was fine without it before, but now I - now I want your skin on mine to fucking feel properly relaxed.” 

 

“That doesn’t sound creepy at all,” Ronan says. 

 

“Fuck off,” Adam says, “I’m tired and - and sad. Don’t fucking shit on my word choices.” 

 

“I know it’s hard-” Ronan begins, sounds like he’s actually dropping down into something semi serious amidst his heavy sniffing. 

 

“I want to come home,” Adam mumbles, clutches his phone tighter, “I’m so - it doesn’t feel worth it right now. I miss feeling like I belong, I miss kissing you, I miss -” 

 

“Adam,” Ronan breaks in, “Adam, shut the fuck up, babe.” 

 

Adam sniffs. 

 

“You can always fucking come home,” Ronan says, a little harsh, “anytime. I’ll fucking come get you if you ask for it. But you don’t  _ want  _ to, actually. You’re just fucking tired. You need a hug and a nap or some shit. You know you belong right the fuck where you are, as well as here with me. Yeah, it’s fucking shitty as all fuck to not get to make out of whatever, but you doing this is fucking worth a few weeks at a time of celibacy. You’re Adam fucking Parrish, you’re going after what you want and you’re going to fucking get it, because you always do. You can handle a few bumps in the road.” 

 

“Well there isn’t anyone to give me a hug,” Adam retorts wetly into the phone, “and maybe Adam fucking Parrish doesn’t always fucking get it. ‘Cos I don’t. I didn’t get a lot of shit I wanted. I didn’t get the grade I wanted in my last essay, I didn’t get into the uni I wanted, I’m not home looking after you right now-” 

 

“We can argue about this if that’s what’s going to make you feel better,” Ronan interrupts, “or we could fucking be adults and talk about how to actually make you feel better.” 

 

“I swear to God,” Adam mumbles, “if you suggest phone sex again-” 

 

“I wasn’t going to” Ronan sighs, “although I dunno why you’re so adverse to it-” 

 

“I’m not adverse to it,” Adam protests, “you just always suggest it at bad times.” 

 

“Well whatever,” Ronan says, “look, do you wanna come home this weekend?” 

 

“Yes,” Adam says, because he does want that. 

 

“But you have like,” Ronan pauses as if he’s thinking, “a paper due on friday, and two more by tuesday.” 

 

“Yes,’ Adam says, because this is also true. 

 

“So coming home isn’t a good idea,” Ronan continues.

 

“Yes,” Adam says. 

 

“I can come to you,” Ronan says, “I don’t even need to wait for the weekend.” 

 

“You’re sick.” 

 

“And you’re sad, and stressed, and shit, so,” Ronan says. 

 

“I want to tell you not to come,” Adam sighs. 

 

“So tell me not to come,” Ronan replies. 

 

Adam does not tell him not to come. 

 

“I’ll drive up tomorrow, ok?” Ronan asks, “I’ll fucking kill this cold, and then come up to you.” 

 

“Ok,” Adam mumbles. 

 

“Do you need more of a pep talk?” 

 

“No,” Adam says, clears his throat, “no.” 

 

“‘Cos I’ll give you more of a pep talk if you want,” Ronan continues, “I can tell you to buckle down, or some shit, or like, that there’s no gain without pain, or - I dunno, something else cliche and unhelpful.” 

 

“Please don’t,” Adam says. Wipes at his eyes. “Ok,” he says, “I’m done being all… sloppy now.” 

 

“You have class in a couple of hours, yeah?” Ronan asks, sounds a little muffled, then blows his nose loudly in Adam’s ear. 

 

“Yeah,” Adam sas, making a face Ronan can’t see, “and then work, study class after work, and dinner with some friends.” 

 

“Busy day,” Ronan says, “did you sleep enough to handle it?” 

 

“I could handle it on less sleep,” Adam says, “I’ll be fine.” 

 

“I wish you’d tell me when you’re not sleeping well,” Ronan says, “or like, when you’re feeling shitty.” 

 

“We literally just talked about how I’m feeling shitty,” Adam points out, and Ronan makes a grumpy noise. 

 

“Before it ends up with you crying down the phone at me,” he clarifies, “so we can do some shit about it before you have to feel so fucking crap.” 

 

“It wasn’t worth mentioning,” Adam says, shrugs, “you’re right that I’m just… tired and shit. I’m overreacting.” 

 

“Yeah you are,” Ronan grumbles, “but that doesn’t fucking mean it isn’t important, don’t get it twisted, Parrish,” 

 

“I’m not sleeping great,” Adam says, “I’m having weird dreams, not even like… magic dreams, just unsettling ones. And I know it’s just because I’m - because I’m stressed and probably no eating right or whatever.” 

 

“And because you miss me,” Ronan says. 

 

“Yeah,” Adam agrees. 

 

“I can call more if you want,’ Ronan suggests, “I fucking hate phones, but I’ll fucking chat with you more if that’s what you want, you know that, yeah?” 

 

“Only if I suck your dick though, yeah?” 

 

“Is that so bad, really, though?” 

 

“No,” Adam sighs. 

 

“I’d do it even if you weren’t so good at dick sucking,” Ronan concedes, “I’d do anything to fucking make you happy. Asshole.” 

 

“Get better,” Adam says. 

 

“I will,” Ronan promises. 

 

-

  
  


The further through the day he gets, the dumber he feels. He knows he feels lonelier at night, or early morning as the case may be, he’s always known that. He should know better than to let himself just give into the despondency he feels. Should know better than to push it all onto Ronan when really, Ronan needs to stay a the barns, needs to do his own shit, needs to think that Adam is doing perfectly fine at uni. Because he is. His grades are good so far, he has friends, even if he wouldn’t hunt down dead kings with them, they’re good enough. He’s doing fine here apart from the fact that it’s difficult so he’s stressed, which isn’t unusual at all, but lately his stress relief has been found in Ronan’s fucking arms like something shitty romance paperback novel or whatever, and he can’t find anything else here that comes even close to as comforting. 

 

He calls Ronan that evening after work, before he goes out for dinner. 

 

-

 

“I don’t care if you’ve changed your mind,” Ronan says in lieu of a greeting, “I’m coming tomorrow anyway, unless you’re too fucking busy or some shit.” 

 

“Lynch,” Adam sighs. 

 

“I want to see you too, you asshole,” Ronan says, “you’re not the only one who wants to suck dick.” 

 

“Ronan,” Adam says. 

 

Ronan unbends a little, not in the way Adam was thinking. “I’m kidding,” he says softly into the phone, “I know I’m always -  you know I miss the sex a fuck load less than I miss just holding you.” 

 

“When will you be here tomorrow?” Adam asks instead, “So I know how to plan my day?” 

 

“About four?” Ronan suggests, “I gotta get some shit done here in the morning before I leave. I’ll come to your dorm?” 

 

“Ok,” Adam says. 

 

-

 

Michael is in when Ronan arrives, which is unfortunate, but mostly for him, because Adam currently gives zero fucks about an audience, and Ronan has apparently been waiting to properly rub it into Adam’s uni friends (and others) that Adam is taken. 

 

“Oh good,” Adam says stupidly as he opens the door to Ronan’s knock, “you’re early for once in your fucking life.” 

 

“Wanna hear about my speeding ticket?” Ronan asks, already stepping into the room, pulling the door shut behind him, crowding into Adam’s space. 

 

“No,” Adam says, rolls his eyes, is already reaching for Ronan, “maybe later.” 

 

Ronan kisses him then, just light and soft, a hello kiss, but he pulls Adam into his arms properly to hold him, to bundle him up against his chest immediately after. 

 

Adam is a little more embarrassed about looking so vulnerable in front of Michael, but not enough to even want to pull away. He leans in further against Ronan’s chest, closes his eyes. 

 

“Hey,” Ronan grunts, speaking into Adam’s hair, “y’know I hate saying it on the phone, but I fucking love you.” 

 

“Fuck off,” Adam mumbles, “I know.” 

 

“Just reminding you,” Ronan says. Slips one hand down from Adam’s back to squeeze his ass quickly. 

 

Michael is very studiously and loudly typing on his computer over on his bed. 

 

“I love you too,” Adam says, exhales loudly, “obviously.” 

 

“Fuck off,” Ronan says, “I know.” 

 

“Do you guys want me to leave?” Michael calls, “Because I can leave.” 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! If you like my writing feel free to come yell at me on my Tumblr etoilearden.tumblr.com


End file.
